Turn the page, I need to see something new
by CrazyC00kie
Summary: Books are one of the most powerful things in the whole of creation. The Winchesters learn that lesson the hard way. SLASH! Dean/Castiel, Crowley/Aziraphale
1. Prolog

"Dean," Sam said exasperated, for what felt like the umpteenth time that day, "you should've agreed. I told you; there is nothing we can do. It's what everyone told us from the start. We can't change our destiny, Dean. We tried, by god we tried but there is nothing left we can do! And you know it. We both know it. I have to say yes!"

"You'll not play meat-suit for Lucifer Sammy! I won't let you," Dean shouted back, sick of having that argument yet again. "I'm not gonna sit back and watch the devil ride you until there's nothing but a drooling idiot left, so he can go on bringing about the apocalypse. It's not gonna happen. We'll find another way."

"There is no other way," Sam yelled back, taking a swig of his beer.

After Dean had returned from his meeting with Death – Death with a capital 'D' as in he-who-calls-us-and-we-shall-die – he told them what Death demanded in exchange for his ring; the only remaining ring of the fore horsemen the Winchesters hadn't got a hold of yet.

Death demanded Dean should let this brother agree to be Lucifer's vessel. He in return told Death in a very harsh and colourful language where he could stick his magical ring.

Now they were exactly where they had started – back to square one.

At the moment hey were all back at Bobby's, drinking beer and arguing about their further course of action. Sam sat cross-legged on the couch, nursing his bottle. Bobby sat in his usual spot behind the desk, while Dean paced up and down. Castiel stood sullen in a corner beside the door. Brooding.

Walking out of the room, Bobby decided to leave them to it. No sense getting involved again. Last time he tried to settle the discussion without violence they yelled at him from all directions for taking sides.

"Idijits!"

They've had this argument at least a hundred times before, in the last couple of weeks. Bobby desperately hoped they would stop this nonsense soon, so they could do something useful like averting the apocalypse, not discussing how not to stop it.

Like a pair of kindergarten children those Winchesters; every last one of them, bickering, bickering, bickering. All day long!

Maybe the apocalypse wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

"We'll find a way! End of discussion."

Glaring at his brother he stopped pacing. He threw a sideways glance at Cas for some back up, but he didn't seem to notice it. He nursed his beer, like all the answers are in the bottle.

Drunken angel – what a great addition for 'Team Free Will'.

"Dean... ," Sam whined, giving Dean his best hurt-puppy look.

"I said: end of discussion."

This was driving him crazy. He hadn't fought this long against angels and demons and whatever else came their way, only to loose now. Once, told Cas that there was a way to avert the big final fight between heaven and hell, that there is no destiny. Giving in now would be like admitting he had been wrong, that Cas had lost his friend, his home, his powers for nothing.

No! They had to find a way.

They _had_ to.

If not for their own sake than for Cas'.

"But Dean..."

Of course, Sam wouldn't take no for an answer, he had to persuade him to let him do this. Dean couldn't protect his little brother at the cost of the world. Was he really willing let every single person on this godforsaken planet die to protect Sammy?

By god, he hopped not.

At some point he had so see sense and realise that they had no other choice. Their only way to cheat destiny, was to accept it and hope for the best - trying to defeat Lucifer in his own body under his own terms. Not waiting around for some miracle to happen.

Who knew... maybe paradise wasn't so bad after all? No more fighting, no more running away, nor more trying... peace... .

Doesn't sound too bad.

"Oh come on," came a voice behind them out of nowhere. "Have a little faith, Sammy-boy!"

Every single head whipped around.

Cas looked sluggish up from his next alcoholic drink, even Bobby stuck his head back in from the kitchen.

A new – and never quite welcome – guest had appeared on Booby's couch, feet propped up on the coffee-table, a glass of fine old Craig whiskey in hand. Despite hanging outside like looming shadows, he wore dark shades, halfway covering a pair of brown-grey eyes.

His cloth were kept in different kinds of black.

Black trousers, black shirt, black tie and a knee long black coat – even his hair was black.

With a slight smirk, he looked first at the Winchester boys, than at Bobby and lastly at Castiel, raising his glass in a toast.

"Upssssss... that should have been the angels line, not mine."

He smiled an unpleasant, sarcastic smile.

"So sorry."

TBC...


	2. Crowley to the rescue

"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed angrily. "What the hell do you want?"

Sam mumbled some impolite things, Bobby cursed better than the best sailor you could find anywhere, while Castiel simple stated: "Crowley!" like it was some kind of nasty swearword.

The tension in the room grew even thinker, now that Crowley was present. They didn't need the 'help' of another demon; should have learned their lesson after the Ruby disaster. But no – they thought letting Crowley pop in every now and then was alright, as long as he owned Bobby's soul.

Fucking hell-spawn. He couldn't be trusted.

"Just stopping by to see how your date with Death went."

Of course, Crowley knew how it all went down, he was a sneaky bastard after all. He could have told them the outcome from the start. But where would have been the fun in that?

"None of your businesses," replied Dean, glowering.

Sometimes he wished he could simply kill this black-eyed basted without worry for Bobby's soul. At least no-one could stop him from glaring dagger at the demon, since Sam and Bobby seemed to do the exact same thing.

Except for Cas, he was looking at him with this resigned look of his, which he wore all the time nowadays.

He looked defeated. But what's worse... he looked human. Hell, ever since he called from hospital after he banished himself along with several other angels, Cas looked and acted more human than ever before.

"Hey, I'm on your side," huffed Crowley exasperated, "You don't want the world to end and neither do I. Never understood why they wanted the apocalypse anyway. All this death and destruction. Why? Just look at you humans. You are brilliant! You've got music and wine and food, we certainly don't have food downstairs... or cars. For heav... hel... someone's sake, we don't even have cell-phones. Tried to get them to use modern technology down there ages ago. A lot of good that did me! Now those bloody bastards bugger me all the time and hack my radio... or TV. Nothing but trouble with hell's bureaucracy, worse than here. Imagine that!"

Running out of patients, Dean grabbed a nearby book and threw it at the demon. "Get. The. Fucking. Hell. Out of here!"

That stopped him out cold.

Sam might have imagined it, but he could have sworn he saw Crowley's eyes flash a golden yellow, just for a fraction of a second.

"Are. You. Insane? You can't throw a book after me! What did the book do to you?" asked Crowley indignantly, "it certainly never threw you like that, now did it?"

Carefully he picked up the book laying sprawled on the floor. Straightening the bend pages, he dusted it up and sat it careful on the couch beside him. Running his hands down its spine, he smoothed out every last little wrinkle.

Everyone gapped at him.

"What?" he snapped, "a friend of mine owns a bookstore. He might have rubbed off on me."

"Oh I bet he did." Dean snickered. They all rolled their eyes at Dean innuendo, except for Crowley who blushed slightly.

"Oh shut up!"

Crowley threw the book back at Dean, mumbling what seemed like a little prayer under his breath. "Sorry Aziraphale."

He wasn't superstitious but better save than sorry, angering an angel is never a good idea. He looked around carefully for a while to make sure that no lightening ball came down to roast him on the spot. Thankfully none came.

"You are scared of books?" sneered Dean, at the same moment that Sam asked "Did he just pray?" Bobby might have said something about idijit, while Cas simply tilted his head slightly to the left, squinting hard and looking utterly confused.

"If you knew the people I do, you'd treat books respectful, too, if your life is worth anything to you."

Avoiding their questions on purpose, he poured himself a new glass of whisky. No sense letting the enemy know your weakness... or that you prey even thought you are a demon. That could really ruin you reputation and get you into a lot of trouble.

"He is right to be weary of books," stated Cas in his flat, emotionless tone, "they can posse great powers."

Raising an eyebrow, Crowley frowned at the halfway fallen angel with the beer. Not that he didn't appreciate the back up, but he couldn't shake the feeling Castiel was not on his side – what a surprise.

"Like what?" snapped Dean.

He didn't like Castiel's support for Crowley's theories, and neither did Sam or Bobby. First he went human and now he sided with demons... what a great influence he was on that poor not-anymore-so-angelic being.

"They are able to create or destroy things." Castiel explained, now looking entirely sober.

"But that is a legend, right?"

Crowley jumped up from the couch in one swift movement, turning pale as he stood. A slight shudder went down his spine. No human eye could notice it but Castiel did nonetheless. His hand trembled and his voice shook with fear and dread.

It had to be a legend, it had to be. If it was true and the Winchesters got a hold of it... you couldn't imagine what might happen. It would be the end for him. Him and every supernatural creature in the entire universe. They could wipe every being they wished to out of existence.

"It may be a legend, but maybe not. No-one can truly know what is on this planet and what is not, unless He wants us to know. There is so much more between heaven and earth than meets the eye."

Damn cryptic angels!

"Cas! What the hell are you two talking about?"

Dean's already thin patients wore even thinner. Slightly worried they would kill him despite Bobby's soul debt, Crowley took pity on the petty humans, trying to explain what they were on about.

"What we are talking about, is 'The Book of Creation'," the way the demon pronounced the words you could hear the capital letters. "It's a myth, okay. Nothing more than a myth, it doesn't exist."

Three blank looks was all he got.

"Fine. Legend has is there is a book called 'The Book of Creation'. It can create or destroy anything that you want, by simply writing it down."

They still stared blankly and confused at him. Oh for someone's sake how stupid could those blessed humans be?

"Listen, you wanna pie? You write: Dean Winchester has the pest pie in the world on a plate in front of him. Before you can say Bob is my uncle, the best pie in the world is on the table. Or you could write, Sam is not Lucifer's vessel... or even Lucifer does not exist. You can virtually write everything you want into existents. Or out of it."

"But... that is impossible."

Sam breathed hard, shivering. If it was true, they could finally end all the bloodshed and madness. No more fighting, no more Lucifer, no more apocalypse.

Finally peace.

"From what I've heard it does exist," Castiel shipped in, his voice laced with conviction. He sounded sure of himself, like he was stating a proven fact not a hunch.

"And you never mentioned this why?" Dean demanded angrily.

After all they had been through Castiel never bothered to tell them about the book? A simple solution to all their problems. The exact same thing they've been looking for all those month. And this little dick with wings never even mentioned the possibility to find the book!

"Because I did not wish to get your hopes up in case it proves futile," Castiel explained honestly, "I have been looking for 'The Book of Creation' for a long time now. It appears I have eventually found the last missing clue to it whereabouts."

"And you never thought about telling us? Sam's about to say yes to Lucifer and you kept us in the dark?" Dean nearly screamed.

"Guys!" Crowley bellowed that whole room shook. Everything fell silent, looking stunned at the outraged demon. "What do you know about this book Cas?" he continued calmly.

"If the rumours are true, they are hidden along with numerous prophetic books and misprinted bibles. They are guarded by one of the most hideous and dangerous creatures of all creation. Whoever wishes to take one of the books will be incinerated instantaneously, before he can even get a chance to touch them."

"Bless it!" Crowley cursed, "Let me guess, they are hidden in England, near London."

Frowning, Castiel nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. In a town called Soho to be precise. How do you know about that?"

"Let's just say, I've got connections."

Smirking, he pulled out a slim black mobile, pressing some buttons and dialling a rather long number. He waited a few moments before hanging up and dialling yet another number.

"Let me make a call."

Walking out of the room, he talking rather agitated on the phone. They couldn't make out the word or the meaning, not even Castiel new this language. All he could tell them was that Crowley talked in an ancient language, older than the beginning of time. The only beings he had ever heard using this tongue were archangels.

After quite a while he came back in. Snapping his phone shut he addressed the assembled hunters. "A friend of mine will be here shortly. If someone can find the book, he is your guy."

"Demons use cell-phones?" Dean wondered baffled. He had always thought the could just mind read other entities or vanish and talk to who ever they wished to in person. Guess those monsters never ceased to surprise you.

"Some do," he remarked cryptically, "and so do angels."

TBC...


	3. Enter Aziraphale

Dawn was breaking, when a mysterious figure appeared on the edge of Singer Salvage Yard. Despite the dim light, his silhouette stood out among the broken cars like penguins in the arctic.

The newcomer looked rather chubby and weird. Light blond-golden curls adorned his head and he wore small glasses. His cloth were as unusual as his whole appearance, dark green tweed trousers, a beige flannel shirt and a tartan jacket.

Not your average bad guy look.

The strange man walked briskly to the front door. Knocking loudly he stepped back, waiting for someone to open the door.

"Hello?" he asked politely, with a heavy British accent.

It didn't take long for the Winchesters to swing the door open, guns drawn and at the ready. Unsure of the whole situation, a brief flash of amusement crossed his face before settling into a bright and genuine smile.

"Oh hello, nice meeting you fellas. Crowley's told me quite a lot about you nice chaps. Quite noble you are, too. Trying to save the world and all that... but defying His will?" glancing at Cas he added "and you of all things... well ... I suppose that is ineffable for you."

Throwing Castiel a sad glance he stepped carefully over the threshold, spreading his hands apart to show that he was unarmed.

"You can't second guess ineffability, right?" Came Crowley's voice, startling Sam. They were so absorbed with the strange looking creature with no apparent sense for fashion, that they forgot all about the demon in the next room.

"Crowley, be a dear," cautioned Aziraphale him softly, "and don't startle this nice people."

"Right," muttered Crowley under his breath. No sense in arguing with the angel.

"Who is he then?" demanded Dean worriedly. People who appeared out of nowhere and knew demons by name were never a good sign – or plainly good in general.

"A friend with a bookshop," replied Crowley, like it would explain everything.

"And this helps us how?" Sam asked in return. What help could a demon with a bookshop be... and why the hell would a bloodthirsty monster own a bookshop... or wear really strange cloth.

Every creature they had previously encountered had at least some kind of fashion sense. But this one – nooooo! Sam wished he could burn out his eyes.

"We need a book dimwit," shot Crowley sarcastically back.

Blessed humans.

"Dear, please."

Putting a soothing hand on the other mans back, Aziraphale shushed him softly but forcefully. He threw him a stern but nonetheless kind look. Blushing, Crowley calmed immediately down. A slight flush spread over his face as he looked ashamed away.

"Sorry, angel."

Once again, everyone starred stunned at their not entirely human asset.

"What kind of book do you need?" chimed Aziraphale up, "got plenty of them, me. Not for sell of course, but I might consider leaning them to you. What with your noble cause and all."

Still smiling pleasantly, he strolled over to Bobby's bookshelves, inspecting them thoroughly. He started picking some books up and putting them in they rightful place on the shelves.

"Right," muttered Dean, clearly puzzled, "they were all talking gibberish but as far as I understood it, we need a book to stop the devil. A powerful one."

"But my dear, every book is powerful. It's filled with the most powerful things in the whole world... words."

"Beneath the rule of men entirely great, the pen is mightier than the sword," mumbled Cas carefully, like testing the words in his mouth. His gaze far away, searching for a hidden wisdom from the past. He couldn't say why but he knew he had heard those words before. A long time ago, when the heaven had been a peaceful and good place to live in.

"There is only one way to defeat the enemy, and that is to write as well as one can. The best argument is an undeniably good book," replied Aziraphale proudly, daring the little angel to say more. They had met once before, before he became heavens liaison to earth. He always liked the little guy. Admittedly Castiel was a strange fellow, but he had his heart in the right place... kind of like Crowley.

"But words strain, crack and sometimes break, under the burden, under the tension, slip, slide, perish. Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place. Will not stay still." Castiel knew this words, they felt right, and yet he could not remember where he had heard them before.

"And by the incantation of this verse, scatter, as from an unextinguished heart ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!" Crowley all but bellowed the worlds, looking just a bit too proud and too smug.

"My dear, please." Aziraphale cautioned his companion, shaking his head. Crowley's outburst seemed to have broken the magic moment between him and his brother Castiel. Well, that's what happens when you hang around demons all the time.

"Not the right quote, eh angel?"

"No, not quite."

Shooting Crowley a stern look he turned his attention back to the hunters, beckoning them to continue. They, in return, continue to gape at the really strange demon and his friend.

Bobby, apparently the only sane thinking person in the entire house, gathered his thoughts. Clearing his throat loudly he answered.

"Those idijits are lookin' for 'The Book of Creation'."

"Oh... dear... ," breathed Aziraphale abashed. They couldn't honestly try what he thought they might. Clearly that was too dangerous. No one was that desperate and crazy... right?

"So, you've heard of it?" Bobby asked, taken aback. He hadn't expected this weird fellow to have heard of a book even he had never heard of.

"Yes," he replied ruefully, "but sadly, I could never manage to get a hold of it myself. Pity."

"But you know where it is?" Please, please, please say yes. They would finally be able to stop this madness and go back to their normal hunter lives, without added apocalypse.

"My dear, if I knew where it was, why do you think I haven't collected it already?" As an afterthought he added: "Why do you want it anyway?"

"I don't know," Dean shot back sarcastically, "to write the Devil away perhaps?"

"My, my. That's not how it works."

Worried Aziraphale searched for the right words to explain this delicate matter to those mere mortals.

"You see, you can't change big things like that. Small things yes, but the devil... it would change all of creation. If Lucifer had never been created, humanity wouldn't even exist. And without humanity, who would stop the devil from existing? Nasty paradox you got there... And don't you think that is a little over the top anyway? Erasing Lucifer from existence would be like..."

Trying to think of a good analogy, Crowley cut in.

"... throwing a nuclear-bomb to get rid of a fly!"

You had to admit, Crowley might be a bit violence loving but he knew how to make a point. Happily, Aziraphale continued his not-so-cruel explanation.

"Yes, that's what it's like. Why don't you..."

Struggling for the right metaphor, Crowley interrupted again.

"... take a book and smash the fly with it?"

Aziraphale glared daggers at his friend. A book? His oh so dear friend wanted to take a book to destroy the fly. Bloody demon! If looked could kill, Crowley would rot in hell... or in this case, in heaven.

"Yes, exactly" he agreed strained, "why not kill the fly with a nice and completely innocent book?"

"And how, pray tell, should we do that?" demanded Dean.

"Pick up a book, wait for the fly and smack the fly is dead," the demon remarked dead pan, with only a mischievous twinkle in his now light brown golden eyes.

"Crowley dear," Aziraphale cautioned him once, "I believe they were talking about the devil, not our metaphors." Turning to the hunters he added, "you could probably use 'The Book of History'. Again you can't change too much without writing yourself away or destroying the whole universe, but small things... why not? It's what they were made for after all."

"What does the book help us, if we can't ice the devil?"

Sam wondered aloud. Fine, they could use a book with a different name but still no hope for them to defeat Lucifer. What else could they possibly do? Throw it at him and hope it cracks his skull? Or hey, maybe they could poke his eyes out with the magic book.

"Nuclear-bombs again," Crowley sighed exasperated, "what is it with you trigger happy humans and your overkill? May be you can't stop the apocalypse, but why not stop someone from knifing Sammy or Dean from making a deal for his soul. You couldn't write that of course without disappearing yourselves before you could finish. But someone like... Cas... or Zira could do it."

"Riiiiiiight," Dean sounded sceptically, "and I suppose you have one of those book conveniently lying around."

"No... it's somewhere down in the basement."

"You don't have a basement!" Pointed Crowley out, baffled.

"Of course I do! I would have to search a bit, but yes... I should be able to find one of them." "As long as Crowley hasn't hidden them away," he added as an afterthought.

"I've never been to your basement!"

Crossing his arm in defiance, the stubborn demon denied everything. He would never hurt his friend like that. Burning down books... what did he take him for? A monster? A cruel and heartless demon? Surly not.

"You nearly burned down every book there with your stupid torch," the other spit back, glowering. His words laced with hurt and distaste.

"That is your basement?" Crowley asked incredulously, "that dark and gloomy thing? I thought it was a cave."

"A cave?" Aziraphale shrieked horrified.

"Boys! What are you idijits waiting for? Stop bitching and go get the damn book!" Bobby growled at the two bitching supernatural beings.

"Right. Just one word before I go, Crowley. In private."

TBC...

FYI, I used the following quotes for Castiel's and Aziraphale's conversation:

Beneath the rule of men entirely great,

The pen is mightier than the sword.

~Edward Bulwer-Lytton

There is only one way to defeat the enemy, and that is to write as well as one can. The best argument is an undeniably good book.

~ Saul Bellow

Words strain,

Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,

Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,

Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place,

Will not stay still.

~T. S. Eliot

And by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguished heart

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!

~Percy Bysshe Shelley


	4. Temptation

Standing outside in the vast salvage yard space, Aziraphale turned angrily to his companion, scowling. Pointing an accusing finger at him he tried to get his rightful rage under control.

Being an angelic entity and having thousands of years of experience with the demon, he managed to cool down after just a few deep breathes. Angels didn't need to breath but he found it helpful to calm down.

"How could you let that happen?" the angel hissed furious.

Crowley blinked rapidly a few times before replying innocently. "Let what happen?"

"The poor dear... ," trailing off, Aziraphale got back to glaring daggers and possibly holy water at the demon.

"What are you talking about?" demanded the demon, still visibly confused. Blessed angels, too damn cryptic. Why did he have to put up with this?

"Castiel, of course," Aziraphale stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Okay... you lost me angel."

Getting a mayor headache, Crowley pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. And there he thought getting his angel to help them stop the end of the world was a good idea. How wrong he was. Should the whole blessed planet go under for all he cared, as long as he didn't have to deal with his angry friend any longer.

"We both know why the little dear is loosing all of his powers but he apparently doesn't", explained the angel, "you should have talked to him."

"Like he would listen," snarled Crowley.

"Than make him!" demanded Aziraphale vehement.

"How?" Crowley nearly screamed with frustration. Like there was any way for him to make Castiel listen to him.

"How should I know? Think of something. Please Crowley, give him his powers back."

The angel all but begged the demon for his help. Aziraphale had a rather weak spot for people in need. It didn't matter whether it was a human or an angel who needed help, he just had to try and fix things.

"I'm not the charity!"

"Crowley dear, If you can't have faith in what is held up to you for faith, you must find things to believe in yourself, for a life without faith in something is too narrow a space to live."

How he hated it when Aziraphale spoke wise and quoted famous people. Damn him but he had a weak spot for his angel.

"Fine I'll see what I can do."

...

Back inside Crowley appeared, like always, out of thin air right behind his chosen target. The little next to powerless excuse for an angelic being – Castiel.

"Hello feathers, we need to talk."

"Crowley," Castiel noted hostile, "talk."

If Castiel was surprised by his appearance or curious why they needed to talk, he didn't show.

Giving the little angel a good look over, he rounded Cas a few time, pulling at his trench-coat, adjusting his tie, his stance, all the while muttering a few silent words under his breath.

"The way I see it," he noted at last, "you are pretty powerless."

"Indeed? What concern is that of yours?" Castiel asked calmly back. He stood in place like a stone statue, not moving a mussel, not even blinking.

"I might know of a way to help you," offered Crowley helpfully. The little angel wouldn't break easily but had tempted entire civilisations for centuries after all. He only had to find the right motivation for Castiel. Thinking back at what he liked and how he acted, the demon might have the solution already. This was going to be fun!

"I'll not make a deal for my soul!" Stated Castiel defiantly.

He would not fall this low, selling his soul for power. He might not have much, but he still had his pride and Dean's respect. Getting his mojo back would be nice but his soul was too high a price. Making the deal would make him no better than any other demon who sold his soul for power.

"Pity."

Moving to stand behind the halfway-fallen angel he leaned in closer, barely touching Cas' cheek with his noes, whispering softly in his ear. His voice was like a soft breeze in the wind, making promises of such wonder and amazement, lulling his victim into a trance like state.

"I wonder how long it will take them to cast you aside, like an old shirt. That's what humans do with old and broken things. They'll replace them. Surely you can't be anything but a burden for them. If you can't use you angel-mojo what good are you?"

He made a dramatic pause, nuzzling Cas' ear and drawing one hand slowly down the angels spine, letting it rest on the small of his back.

"I could make you powerful again. More power that you've ever possessed. Just think about it. How good it would feel to travel anywhere you want in an instant. All those powers at your disposal. No more worry, no more cheep food and long car rides. They won't pity you any longer, but admire your strength and beauty. You'll be magnificent."

He drew back, shifting to Cas' front, looking him straight in the eyes, persuading him silently to say the three magical letters.

"No." Castiel stood his ground, he would not waver nor break.

No one had every said no to Crowley and not changed his mind after he had finished with them. Now, he might be the king of the crossroads but he had been a tempter for a long time. And he was a good one. The best in fact.

He continued in a low and sensual voice, barley audible. All the while caressing Castiel's abdomen, playing with the buttons of his shirt.

"Dean will admire you. You would like that, wouldn't you? You'd do anything for him, we both know that. You died for him!"

Inching closer, he all but breathed in the angels ear.

"What is there a little soul, when you could get him to look at you, really look at you. This admiring look, like you're the most amazing thing in the world. The only person in the whole universe. You would like that. Yesssss?"

He hissed, his eyes turning an amber yellow. He let out a low hum. Castiel could feel the demons chest vibrating, he stood so close to him, their bodies touching lightly.

"I..."

Cas shuddered, mesmerised by the words spoken, as if taken directly from his soul.

"Tell you what," Crowley breathed, running a single finger along the angels neck and down his arm, "you'll get all your powers back. In exchange I won't demand you soul, you're too smart to give me that. But your grace."

He flashed his most disarming smile and stepped back.

"No soul deal here. That way your soul can follow him to heaven. It's your only chance to get back there. Ever. You could spend all eternity with Dean. Together in heaven – together forever! And the best bit is, you'll get until your beloved human dies. As long as Dean lives you can keep your grace."

Holding out a hand for Castiel to shake, he offered again.

"A deal, power for grace. What do you say?"

Taking some time to consider the offer, Castiel scratched his neck. He shifted uneasy, until he finally lowered his head in shame.

"Yes," Cas whispered barley audible.

"I didn't hear that, what did you say?"

"I said yes," repeated Castiel sourly, "what do you require to make the deal? Do you wish me to kiss you?"

Making no move to either shake the demons hand nor kiss him, he glared at him with hatred in this eyes.

"Hmmm...," thought Crowley aloud, "no. I shouldn't be the first one to kiss you. That kiss already belongs to someone else, doesn't it? In your case, we can just shake on it."

Reluctantly Cas grabbed the still outstretched hand, shacking it with distaste and humiliation.

"Oh and I might have thrown in a bit of temptation," Crowley added with a sly smirk, "with a bit of work on your side, you'll have Dean fulfilling your wildest dreams in no time."

TBC...

Zira's quote:

If you can't have faith in what is held up to you for faith, you must find things to believe in yourself, for a life without faith in something is too narrow a space to live.

~ George E. Woodberry


	5. The morning after

Coming down to breakfast the next morning, everyone gaped at Castiel.

He was nearly completely covered in black.

His ill fitting suit was gone, replaced by tight black jeans, a black T-shirt that made every mussel in his body stand out clearly visible and an half-opened navy blue button-up shirt. On his feet he wore a pair of comfortable black sneakers with navy blue laces.

Instead of the too large trench coat, he wore a new black leather jacket, fitted perfectly to his body. A silver chain hung around his neck covered with several small silver wings and a pentagram in the middle. On his long delicate fingers sat a few rings, covered in protective ruins and enocian sigils. They glistened in the light as he moved.

His face was shaven clean, not a single stubble covered his soft chin and his hair, also a deep black that shimmered dark blue in the right light, was ruffled, standing up at odd angles like they were trying it's best to defy every law of gravity.

"Hello Dean," he greeted him as usual.

"H..Hey Cas.." Dean choked, the last bit of pie stuck in his throat. He was coughing and spluttering, "do... do you want breakfast?"

"I do not require food," Castiel stated in his flat tone. Giving Dean a soft smile, he took a nearby chair, sitting down opposite him, "but a slice of pie would be great. Thanks"

"Looking good, Cas," commented Sam, strolling in the kitchen and looking for some coffee. He got himself and Bobby a mug, offering the last one to Castiel, who accepted it gratefully.

"Thank you Samuel, I feel a lot better today. My powers have somewhat returned."

Eating his pie and drinking the coffee, Dean couldn't help but notice how different the angel looked. How human – and yet angelic. He showed some facial expressions and emotions but he didn't move so clumsy anymore, like he was stuck in the wrong body and didn't know quite how to operate it.

His entire demeanour had changed – and so had his cloth..

"What's with the new cloth," Dean noted casually, or at least he tried to, his emotions doing summersaults, "don't get me wrong, it suits you better than that old trench coat but... wow have you looked at yourself lately? You look..."

Fumbling for wordy, Castiel grew anxious. _Were they wrong? Did they look bad? What if Dean thought they were ugly?_

"What?" he asked finally, a shade of worry in his tone.

"... hot," Dean admitted at last, "they look damn hot. Where did you get them... and why?"

"Crowley said I needed a new wardrobe," Castiel said dean pan.

Everyone snorted. Bobby all but spat his coffee across the room, Sam's mouth dropped several meters to the floor while Dean fought hard not to get a giggle fit. Admittedly a giggle fit wasn't typical for the older Winchester brother but then, this whole day had been weird – even for his standards.

He had woken up with the nagging feeling that there was something important he had to do, but couldn't quite put his fingers on it. Like when you've forgotten to lock you car but don't remember forgetting it. It was nagging at him the entire time.

And then there was Castiel.

It felt like every fibre in his body screamed to touch the angel, rip his cloth of and just take him. Right here right now. Everything he did looked hot and seductive.

The way he ate. How his delicate finger dipped into the pie and sucked the cream off, his tongue flicking out and wetting his lips. Licking, no sucking on the fork, his eyes never leaving Dean's, except for a few glanced _down there_.

He had to be mistaken, Cas wouldn't act like that.

Never!

Right?

Who knew... the way he dressed, the way he behaved... maybe he did do it deliberately.

Teasing Dean, tempting him. Literately begging to capture those hot wet lips, kissing every inch of this lovely inviting body and making him quiver and scream.

NO! NO! NO!

That was all his imagination. Cas wouldn't do that on purpose, right? He was only trying to act human, to blend in and had taken a few lessons from the wrong people. Namely Crowley... or himself.

Yes, that was it. It had to be. Castiel had no idea what he was doing, no idea what he was doing to Dean, at all.

...

Flashback

_After Castiel had finally agreed to let Crowley give him a make-over, they spend the entire afternoon trying out new cloth. Well, Cas tried them out anyway, Crowley not so much._

_They took their turns in choosing. Making new stuff appear, the old disappear... or burst into flames. Crowley got a bit heated about some of the clothes the little angel choose._

_While Cas walked up and down the room, showing off, Crowley made him twist and turn once in a while, so he could get a better look at his new friend. What kind of demon had two angelic friends anyway?_

_They tried a smart suit "too posh", a hunter's look "mini-Dean-doll" and much more but Crowley had always something to complain about._

_"Noooo! Are you and angel or a demon?"_

_"Tartan? Honestly?"_

_"Too gothic... punk... nerd..."_

_"Ever heard of the word 'subtle'? Get the leather pants off _now_! And no tank top for you – especially not in pink."_

_It went on and on like that for what felt like hours and probably had been even longer, but finally Crowley stopped dead in his tracks. Glancing at Cas from head to toe, he nodded in satisfaction._

_"Well, well, looking good angel-boy. Way better than in that ghastly suit of yours. Like I always say: no sense for fashion whatsoever in those angels. Now, be a good boy and turn in a circle. Something's still missing."_

_He made some jewellery appear, before Cas changed it to his own liking and tried it on. Crowley whistled appreciatively, Dean would be on the soon-no-so-innocent little angel in no time._

_"Now you're looking perfect. The hottest angel on earth. Well, second hottest... you simply can't compete with Zira. "_

_"I... errr... thank you," Cas blushed furiously. No one had ever called him hot. Not that he wasn't grateful for what Crowley had done for him but one question was still left unanswered._

_"Why would you wish help me? What is your gain from it?" _

_" ...uhh... you know," the demon stammered, caught off guard, " I just wanted to make sure you get the best out of your deal. What do they say... ? Only a happy soul is a good soul... or grace in your case."_

_Despite common knowledge, demons weren't all good liars. Some might be but Crowley certainly wasn't one of them._

_"What did you mean, you threw in some temptation for Dean. What did you do to him?" Castiel investigated further. Something on this whole deal had to be wrong. No one had ever gained as good a deal as he just had. _

_"Don't get you knickers in a twist. I haven't really done anything to your loverboy. I merle focused his attention on you. I don't make people do anything against their will, you know. All I do is suggest things. Show them what they could do, but when it comes down to it, they still have to choose for themselves. Free will that is."_

_TBC...  
_


	6. Miracles

Night had fallen over the small town of Sioux Falls. Every decent person lay sleeping in their beds, sleeping the sleep of the innocent, not aware of what was going on around them.

A strange news report had the Winchester brothers checking out the forests behind an old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. People had reported hearing strange noises near the old building site and there had been several witness accounts of vanishing people and unnatural lights in the forest.

The police never investigated a single disappearance. Since the only missing persons were children from bad social backgrounds, the police believed the kids had run away. The Winchesters on the other hand had a whole lot of other explanations – supernatural explanations.

"Could be a wendigo," suggested Sam, looking out into the forest. They had arrived half an hour ago, searching the warehouse which had proven futile. They decided to take a look at the forest next.

A lot of green trees on the edge of a small town wasn't a reason to worry, but this forest, there was something weird about it. It might have been the healthy trees or the perfect green leaves but they couldn't pinpoint the feeling properly. Something felt plainly off about his whole place, like it was just a bit too much of everything. Too healthy, too calm, too quiet, too peaceful – just too much.

Switching on his flashlight, Sam moved forward, Dean and Castiel following behind. They crept though the bushes, listening for any sounds but they couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Birds sang high up in the trees, little animals skittered around between their feet and even the deer seemed unafraid of the late night visitors.

"Okay, that's it! When did we pass the portal into a fairytale forest?"

Dean kicked at a rabbit that was hopping over his path. He missed it, glaring daggers at the peaceful scenery.

Suddenly Sam stood frozen to the spot.

"Did you guys see that?"

"What?"

Dean concentrated, straining to see anything beyond the utter darkness but he couldn't make out anything beyond the tiny beam from his flashlight. The stars shone overhead but their light didn't reach down into the undergrowth.

"Sam is right," declared their favourite Angel, "there is someone out there."

Silently they followed the dark shape Cas had pointed out, until they reached what looked like a deserted camping site, but there was no sight of the ominous creature.

"Where has he gone?" Sam wondered.

Walking carefully out into the open, Sam turned around to see the other two hovering on the edge of the clearing, hiding in the shadows of the trees. He couldn't see anyone else. Turning in a circle he noticed he couldn't see Dean or Cas anymore either.

"Dean?" he whispered cautiously, then louder when no reply came. "DEAN?"

"DEAN!"

"You disturb the peace of this forest", said a dark shape, walking into the light. "Leave, you are not welcome here."

Before Sam could fathom what was happening, the humanoid shape reached for Sam. As soon as the thing's hand touched him, the world around the youngest Winchester started to blur. Light began to fade and the forest swam out of focus. When his vision cleared again he found himself back in Bobby's living room.

Back in the forest Castiel needed all his persuasion to hold Dean back. When he had noticed the black hooded shape on the other side of the clearing, he had pulled Dean back, leading him deeper into the thicket. Soon after, they heard Sam calling their names. Dean wanted to answer, to run to his now shouting brother and tell him he was okay, but Castiel held a restraining hand around his arm.

"Don't", he breathed quietly into Dean's ear.

The more Sam shouted, the more Dean wanted to do something but Cas clamped a hand over Dean's mouth, muffling every sound he attempted to make.

Then it grew quiet. No more shouting, no more feet walking around the clearing. Sam had vanished.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean hissed, as soon as Castiel took his and off of his mouth.

"Look!" The Angel pointed at the lone figure standing in beside the camping fire.

"What? It's empty." Dean strained to see what Castiel was pointing at but all he could make out was an empty camping-site with a small burning fire in the middle.

"Can you not perceive him?" Cas raised his eyebrows in question.

"Per-what who?"

But before he had the chance to ask any more questions, he felt Cas' hand on his cheeks, pulling his face toward him and locking their lips in a soft kiss. It felt weird - good but weird. There was no tongue involved, just a chaste closed mouth kiss but Dean's whole body started tingling, aching for more.

He wanted to reach out and hold the shorter Angel, pull him closer. He physically ached for more contact. But as soon as it had begun, it ended and Cas turned his head swiftly back to the clearing, where now a dark clothed man-like shape stood. Running all around him/it were the missing children, playing hide-and-seek and other games.

"Follow me," insisted Castiel quietly, walking forward, "but keep quiet."

They stepped out onto the camp-site. The children kept playing. The dark shape turned towards them, smiling knowingly.

"Hello Castiel, Dean," the man like shape greeted them, nodding at each of them in turn.

"What the hell?" Dean hissed but Castiel shushed him quietly.

"No, no," The stranger told Castiel in a gently tone. His voice sounding like waves in the ocean, soft and soothing but strong and forceful at the same time, welling up and down in a enthralling sing-song.

"Let the youth speak his mind. He has a lot of questions and anger inside him."

Taking off his dark veil, he turned to Dean, revealing the face of an old man. Wrinkles adorned his face. It made his look old but wise. He could have been any old granddad if it weren't for his ears. Under the hood he revealed long and sharp pointed ears. He looked at Dean with an intensity that could melt stone, looking deep into his soul.

"Your brother is fine. He is back home where he belongs."

Some strange magic drained all the animosity from Dean's mind, leaving a buzz of happiness and contentedness in its wake. Something about the man made him trust this supernatural being utterly and without the shade of a doubt.

"What is this place?"

"This," he waved around, "is a shelter for the children. In their homes, they were beaten, abused and hurt. Their souls were crying out and I couldn't stand listening to them and not intervene."

"I don't understand, why would someone as powerful and as you are, would take care of ordinary children?"

Castiel looked as confused as Dean felt. He had never heard of any being this powerful, that simply wished to help other, lower people.

"I'm old, Castiel. I don't have great powers any more. Hiding this place takes up a lot of my energy. How could I not take these children out of their misery? If I know one thing for certain, age... it makes you weak... but also kind. I may not be able to fight any longer, but I certainly can help these poor souls. What you do Castiel, if you hear a beautiful and untarnished soul scream to you for help? Wouldn't you come to his aid?"

Nodding, Cas stepped forward, stretching one hand out toward the old man. A bright, blazing light engulfed the figure, shooting out of the Angel's hand. The light hurt his eyes but Dean couldn't force his gaze away. They all stood engulfed in white light, Castiel's wings outstretched behind him.

For the first time Dean could see them clearly, not just their shadow. They weren't entirely black as he had previously believed. Among those raven black feathers were streaks and pattern of dark ocean-blue ones, reflecting the light, while the others absorbed it like a sponge sucking all the light away.

Dean gazed in awe at the spectacle before him. He almost felt like he could see Castiel, not Jimmy – the vessel – but _Castiel._

Gradually, the light faded away, leaving the forest darker than before. Castiel's wings had vanished, too, but Dean's inner eye could still see their outlines. It was beautiful.

The man's old and wrinkled face was gone, replaced by an much younger face. He had the same wise and kind eyes but he looked like all the age had vanished from his features. He smiled a warm smile at the angel, bowing down.

"Your kindness rewards you, high elve," said Castiel, "be blessed for your honourable deeds."

Turning, Castiel took Dean by the hand, leaving the children and the forest behind. They left the woods in silence, the only sound coming from a chorus of children, singing a song of peace, harmony and thanks.

Once they were back at the old warehouse Castiel mojoed them both and the Impala back to Bobby's home.

TBC...


	7. Dark caves and nice wings

Deep, deep down under the busy streets of Soho, a single torchlight illuminated the vast caves that stretched out for miles on end. Not many people knew these tunnels even existed, they weren't in any city planes and not even the builder of this town knew they were there.

Aziraphale walked the halls up and down for hours and hours, trying to find a single book. Problem was, the whole tunnel network was filled to the top with books. Bibles, prophetic books, magic books and sometimes even a stray cooking book. This was the Angel's 'basement'.

Since it would be far too expensive to light everything down here with electricity, he always used a torch – and that was also the reason why Crowley nearly burned down his storage area once... or twice.

"Found anything yet?" came a voice out of the darkness. No light was to be seen, but Aziraphale knew right away who's voice it was. Only one person, except for himself, knew how to get in here and was able to avoid all the traps. Or they were simply the only two people in the entire world who knew these caves existed – he wasn't too sure about that.

"Crowley dear, why are you standing in the dark?" he tutted softly. Sometimes he just couldn't understand the demon. It's not like they needed light, but nowadays they had to stay under the supernatural radar – Angels and Demons alike. Using their powers too see in the dark wasn't helping much.

"I don't know," replied Crowley sarcastically, "could it be because you threatened me and forbid me to use a single torch down here ever again?"

"I never said that!"

Crossing his arms, Aziraphale looked shocked at the Demon. Surely Crowley must be mistaken, he would never threaten his friend like that. He might have told him to be more careful but he was an Angel after all. Angels don't generally threaten other people.

"To quote you," Crowley replied in a very sweet voice with a huge eerie smile, " 'If you ever attempt to even light a single spark near my beloved books, so help me God or Satan, I'll roast you on the spot.' "

The Angel looked as if the ground should open any moment and swallow him and all his shame. _Well, he looks cute when he's embarrassed_, thought Crowley.

"Okay, fine I might have said that." Fiddling with his torch, Aziraphale got rather close to singeing a few books himself. "Anyway, how is my beloved brother Castiel. Did you manage to give him some belief in his powers?"

"Oh, he's fine." Grinning wickedly, Crowley set off down the tunnel. "And he's got more that just some of his powers back. Bow down before Crowley the Great – saviour of angels. The greatest tempter the world has ever seen!"

"What did you do to him?" Aziraphale inquired rather suspiciously, following him down the aisles so he had some light in the dark. When the demon got this arrogant, it was never a good thing. He had to have done something bad.

"Nothing," Crowley drawled, "compared to what he'll do with Dean."

"Uh...," fumbling for words Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth rapidly, looking like a fish on dry land. "What did you do?" he finally managed to get out.

"I could show you," Crowley offered in a low sensual voice, turning around to draw a single finger up the Angel's face.

"Don't tempt me demon," Aziraphale replied but without much conviction, breathing hard and fast. Crowley knew exactly how to pull the Angel's strings.

"Do I need to?" he murmured suggestively, kissing his friend lightly on the cheek.

"No," the angel whispered hoarsely, his face mere inches away from Crowley's. Leaning forward he captured his the other's lips in a frenzied, feverish kiss.

Crowley in return, slammed him into one of this oh-so-beloved bookshelves, but Aziraphale didn't... couldn't care.

Frantic hands moving all over his body, tugging at his sleeves, shirt, tie. His own hands roaming through his lovers hair, over his neck and all the way down his back, slipping underneath the fabric of his trousers.

Not able to find a fast way to get those damn clothes out of the way, Crowley used some of his awesome powers, to let them all disappear. Aziraphale gave him a disapproving glance but said nothing, glad at finally being able to touch the others skin, pulling him in for another dominant and forceful kiss.

Slamming their mouths together, teeth clashing against teeth and giving in to another of Crowley brilliant temptations.

Some time later, fully clothed again, Aziraphale picked the fallen books up of the floor. Glancing at his watch he addressed Crowley, who sat slumped on the floor, eyes half closed, smiling like a lunatic.

"We've lost enough time because of you. You nasty Demon, you. Better make yourself useful and help looking for the right book."

Still smiling, he didn't even bother to open his eyes, enjoying the blissful feelings running through his body.

"No torch, remember?"

Bending down, Aziraphale placed a short kiss on this lover's lips, slipping the torch in this open hands. Crowley blinked confused at the gesture but accepted his second chance.

"You'd better not burn anything"

"Promise," the Demon whispered and with a final kiss they parted, doing their duty by stopping yet another apocalypse. Wasn't there supposed to be only one of them?

Friggin' ineffability!

...

Sitting on the couch and their drinking beers, Dean couldn't help but stare at the Angel beside him. After they had filled Sam and Bobby in about the Elf in the forest, they decided to have a quiet evening and relax. Once again, they had solved a case without leaving a huge mess behind or getting anyone killed. A day to celebrate.

But Dean didn't feel like celebrating, he simply couldn't stop thinking about the events in the forest – about the kiss, holding Cas' hand.

It had felt so good, so right. It took all his courage to do it, but Dean knew he had no other choice. He would never be able to get the nagging feeling out of system, if he didn't tell Castiel what he felt. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to look the Angel in the eyes, without feeling guilty.

"You're beautiful", Dean blurted out.

Casting his eyes downward, Cas blushed furiously. And once Dean had started he couldn't find himself able to stop.

"And I'm not talking about your vessel," Dean admitted honestly, staring directly in those beautiful blue eyes, "I mean you. The real you."

"I'm sorry..." stammered Castiel, "you weren't meant to see that. I didn't expect my true self to be visible while healing the Elf, otherwise I would have warned you."

"Don't be sorry."

"It wasn't my entire self you saw back there, just a glimpse." Looking everywhere except at the hunter. He wished for this to happen but he had no idea what to do. He didn't want to loose Dean by making a mistake. This was his only chance. This is what he sold his grace for.

"Still, beautiful", Dean whispered, cupping Cas's cheek tenderly with his right hand. His left sneaked around the Angel's head to his neck, pulling him softly and slow towards Dean.

Leaning slightly forward, Dean finally sealed their mouths in a long, caressing kiss. Touching his cool tongue against the other's lips, begging for entrance into his hot, tempting mouth.

Cas opened his mouth without hesitation, his own eager tongue slipping into Dean's waiting mouth, licking every inch on his way in. Touching, testing, tasting..

Moving his is hands up and down Castiel's delicate ribcage, back and hips, Dean couldn't help but admire this magnificent creature. Castiel's hands were everywhere at once, feeling, pulling, pressing, lingering here and there for a moment; showering him in kisses.

A strange and yet familiar sensation washed over Dean and it took him a moment to realise Cas had flown them both upstairs to Dean's bedroom.

Immediately Dean tugged at Castiel's dark shirt, sliding it off his shoulder, letting it fall to the floor. He drew back, breathing hard. Stripping off his clothes, he saw Cas doing to same. Under the hunters watchful gaze, he stepped out of his pants, seating himself cross-legged the small bed, reaching his hand out for Dean to join him.

He took the offered hand, feeling the soft pale skin under his palms. Reaching up to Dean's shoulder, Cas covered the hand-print hesitantly with his own hand. Hand and print making a perfect match.

No sooner had he touched the mark than a startling sensation cursed through his body, leaving every nerve on edge, making him shiver. Apparently Dean felt the same, shuddering under the touch, letting out a low moan.

His wings unfolded on their own accord. Hugh black wings, threaded through with shining blue swirls, pulsing in the semi-darkness.

"Cas...," Dean moaned as a new surge of pleasure rippled through their bodies.

"Dean," the Angel murmured in a hushed voice, "touch me,"

Dean obliged without hesitation and his whole world exploded into brilliant white light.

TBC...


	8. Double double toil and trouble

The first sunlight beams sneaked their way into the tiny bedroom. Two figures were huddled together, lying in the bed and enjoying their first morning together.

The first of many, hopefully.

"Why didn't we do that ages ago?" asked Dean, wrapping an arm around his angels waist, kissing him softly on the cheek.

"I had no occasion... and I was scared," Castiel admitted sleepily. As an angel Castiel didn't need sleep but _wow_ this felt good. One of the perks of rebelling against heaven, as Dean would put it. He could really get used to this.

"And you have now? Occasion, I mean."

Propping himself slightly upright so he could see Castiel's handsome face, he discovered that the angel had his face turned away from him. He starred at the opposite wall, not daring to meet his lover's eyes, ashamed of what he had done. Tears welled up in his eyes, a sensation he had never felt before. Never thought he would ever feel this.

"Cas?" Dean asked worriedly, forcing him gently to look at him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"C... Crowley," Castiel stammered, his eyes cast downward, crying quietly, "he... tempted me... I am sorry."

Putting a comforting arm around the broken angel, Dean tried his best to soothe him. He didn't know what Crowley had done exactly but whatever it was, he would make him pay for it.

"I don't understand Cas, what happened? What did you do? What did Crowley do? Please talk to me."

Castiel was unable to answer him. His whole body shock with sobs and tears continued to flow down his face. There was nothing Dean could do for him but hold him tight, giving him time to collect himself.

Dean tried to understand what had happened to Castiel. And what had Crowley to do with anything. Then it hit him like a stone, Castiel – his dear and innocent angel - made a deal with the son-of-a-bitch Crowley. Dean could howl in rage. First that bastard took Bobby's soul and now Castiel's.

That demon was clearly in the wrong field of work, he should have become a tempter not a crossroad-demon. Well, looked like not even demons got the jobs that suited them best.

"You made a deal with the devil for your soul?" Dean asked hesitantly, hoping – no begging – for once in his life that he was wrong, that Castiel did not make the same mistake as Bobby and fall for the nasty tricks Crowley played on them.

"Not the devil, with Crowley," he admitted crestfallen, "and it is not for my soul but for my grace."

Dean stared flabbergasted at Castiel.

"Why? Why would you do that? Did that sonofabitch threaten you? I'll kill him! Him and his friend and family and all those crawling nasty demons on the entire planet..."

"Dean", Castiel begged, finally making eye-contact, "he did not threaten me. I made that deal voluntarily. I wished to aid you. I was powerless, useless, helpless... I was hopeless. He prayed on my feelings for you. And I am sorry I let him convince me to say yes. I was weak. Guess I'm more human then we all thought."

Running a soothing hand up and down Castiel's back, he tried to ease his pain a little so he would stop crying. It broke Dean's hear to see his angel shedding tears.

"So...," Dean started, unsure how to handle the situation, "how long did you get? The usual 10 years or less?"

"Until you die." The world were spoken so softly, Dean could barely hear them. It made absolutely no sense to him. Why would Crowley make such a deal with Cas? Help him to get into Dean's pants, return all his powers and all he demanded was his grace as soon as _Dean died_?

"Huh...? What...? Why...?"

"I do not know, Dean," Castiel answered honestly, as confused as Dean was, " those are the terms. My angel-mojo in return for my grace as soon as you die. The rest was... an extra."

Dean took his angels hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm not gonna let this happen, Cas. I'm gonna get your grace back and break that deal. You don't need those power's to be special. You are the most precious person I know - with or without your mojo."

The hunter got dressed before he stormed out of the room, all but yelling the entire house awake. "Where is that sulphur smoking son-of-a-bitch?"

Cas followed behind, doing his best to calm the furious hunter down but to no avail.

...

Sam was still fast asleep, dreaming about happy times with no apocalypse and not everyone trying to kill them, when he was abruptly woken up by screaming and yelling from the study.

What the hell was going on?

He didn't exactly get an answer at first. Coming down, he found a scene he couldn't quite fathom.

Dean was pointing _the colt_ at Crowley, while at the same time thrusting Ruby's knife at the demon. Crowley in return, tried to get away from the angry hunter by keeping Bobby's desk between them. They rounded and rounded and rounded the old wooden desk quite a few time in the short while Sam stood in the doorway.

Dean screamed bloody murder, while Castiel tried to calm him desperately down and Crowley prayed. It wasn't a desperate 'please god, let me live' prayer, more one of the loud and angry 'you bloody angelic bastard! This is all your fault! Now get your sodding ass down here and help me out of this mess!' prayers.

Stepping up behind Sam, Bobby just shook his head muttering something about idijits under his breath, before turning around and leaving them to it.

"Take it back!" The hunter yelled at Crowley, while at the same time throwing pencils and paper sheets across the desk. Ducking the flying utensils he shouted back: "I bloody well can't. If I could, I would! Listen carefully: I _can't_!"

Those two words was all it needed to push Dean over the edge. In one swift motion he threw ruby knife at his opponent. Mere inches from Crowley's chest the knife stopped.

Aziraphale appeared just in time to catch the flying object mid-air, glaring daggers at everyone. If looks could kill Dean would be dead – at least twice over.

"Stop that!" the angel thundered "this instance."

Lightning flashed brightly in the sky, illuminating the horizon for the fraction of a second before plunging everything into utter darkness. A roaring wind wiped through the salvage yard, rain pouring down taking all the light with it. Lightening flashed again and with one mighty boom everything fell silent. It stopped as abruptly as it had started.

Silence fell over the room, no one dared to move much less breath.

"What did you do Crowley," cut the soft voice of Aziraphale through the darkness. The light flickered on and with it the tension left the room. They dared to breath again.

"Nothing," Crowley told his companion.

"Crowley," huffed the angel in his very un-angelic way, like he always does when the demon did something quite wrong.

"Honestly," Crowley tried again. Scowling Aziraphale looked questioning at the humans, since Crowley had cast his eyes downwards, not looking at the angel.

Sam was at a loss, shaking his head he indicated Dean should do something. Which he promptly did with one of his Winchester-snarls.

"He made a deal for Cas' grace."

Aziraphale was utterly shocked, Crowley wouldn't do that surly. He might be a demon but he wasn't evil.

"What? No! Crowley how could you? Let me see."

Fussing about he examined Castiel. Looking him deep in the eyes, poking his arms and chest, pulling at his hair before stepping back. His smile had returned. There was no indication that he could ever be angry or unleash a storm like he only moments before did.

Sheepishly Crowley looked up again. "Sorry dear, you told me to do it. It was the easiest and fastest way to help pretty angel-boy."

"My dear, no one has a claim over your grace. He merely tricked you into believing in yourself. All you needed was a little faith."

"Bullshit!" Dean exclaimed, throwing the cubby angel against a cupboard, training the cold on his cheat. "Why would he do that? Out of the oh so good depth of his not existent heart?"

"No, stupid", he stated calmly, "because I asked him to. I asked him to make Castiel believe in something again. Anything. No matter how."

"And he does always what you tell him to do. Sure. How to tame a demon 101," replied Dean sarcastically.

"I'm not tame," protested Crowley but shut immediately up when Aziraphale shushed him.

"It's what you do, when you love someone." Stepping over to his demon, Aziraphale made sure Crowley wouldn't do anything to get himself shot. One stupid move and Dean might really shot them.

"More lies, demons can't love. Why should I believe anything you say. You keep telling nothing but lies. You can't trust any of you supernatural beings."

"You trust Castiel," replied Aziraphale dead-pan.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Why did he ever agree to let Crowley help? He and his friend brought them nothing be headaches. Dean hated this.

"He's an angel," said Aziraphale like it would explain everything, which it didn't. Not to Dean at least... or Sam.

"Oh my dear," Aziraphale exclaimed when it finally hit him, "you didn't tell them?"

"Must have slipped my mind," replied Crowley sheepishly, "Oopssss..."

"I'm not a demon, dear boys. I'm an angel."

To prove it he showed them the shadow outlining of his wings. His real wings would burn their eyes out and he didn't need to give them more reason to kill them.

"An angel in love with a demon?" Sam ask sceptically. The world get weirder every second.

"And a demon in love with an angel. Don't forget me, the demon."

Crowley put an arm around his angel. Just at that moment the lights in the room flickered and Sam could have sworn he saw two huge shadowed wings on Crowley's back – which must have been a trick of the light. Demons don't have wings.

"Of course not dear." Aziraphale placed a loving kiss on the demons lips and turned to the Winchester boys.

"I've found the book you were looking for."

TBC...


	9. All's well, that ends well

Once there was an idijit boy who had nothing but nonsense in his stupid idijit head...

'Once there was a boy, who was loved by everyone.

His dad loved him like no one else and played with him all day long, while his mum – the best mum anyone could ever wish for - cooked him the best pie in the entire universe. And when she tucked him in at night, she kissed him on the forehead and told her little boy, that angels were watching over him.

He was a happy little kid for years, until one day it all changed.

He became even happier, 'cos he became a brother.

A big brother.

But one strange night, when his mother walked into the baby brother's cradle-room a strange man stood there.

He had materialised out of thin air in one of the dark corners.

Carefully and silently, he walked over and leaned into cradle, his head mere inches from the sleeping form.

When he heard the mother enter his head wiped around and he starred at her. His unnatural eyes shone in the dime light an eerie yellow. They were no human eyes.

The mother started to tremble, gripped by fear and horror.

_No, no, no this couldn't possibly be happening not to her little boy._

But before she could arm herself and get this creature, this monster out of her house, something really strange happened. Stranger than a yellow-eyed demon standing over her little sons baby-bed.

A second man appeared in the room.

"Really dear,", the newcomer said in a soft and smooth voice, "do you have to scare this nice people? There is still a table with your name at the Ritz. Let's go, before they give it away."

"Fine, angel! You're no fun."

And they both disappeared again, leaving a stunned women behind.

The next day a little child around the age of four knock on the Winchesters door. He had piercing blue eyes and an aura that seemed to shine. He smiled and waved over to Marry Winchester.

"My name is Castiel," the little one said, bouncing up and down on the porch, "I am here to watch over Dean Winchester... and play with him. Can he come out?"'

...

Taking the pen of the pages, Bobby read and re-read what he wrote. Satisfied with the outcome, he finally laid the pen down, fading slowly out of existents. And with him the whole world ceased to exist.

In the vast depth of nothingness, floated a single book, with thousands and thousands of stories.

The last entry read: Robert Singer's wife got never possessed,

The End


End file.
